


it was always you

by eliovian



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Pacific Rim Uprising Spoilers, i'm so sad so i wrote something to make myself even sadder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliovian/pseuds/eliovian
Summary: hermann gottlieb goes to visit him.





	it was always you

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for this angsty newmann fic i want to go back in time to where they were just cute dorks too but let me vent my feelings for right now

The time said 6:48 PM. 

Hermann wrung his fingers together, tighter and tighter, hoping to stop the shakiness of them, as well as the continuous thud of his heart, beating against his chest; irregular, not too fast, not too quiet. He bit the edge of his lip, footsteps sounding in the corridor, as well as the mechanical whirring of the building around him. He felt the pace of his feet quicken, then slow, and quick again; for he couldn't decide if he truly wanted to see him. . . like that. Like some sort of idea of Newton, but not him entirely. 

He was surprised that he was even _allowed_ the access to see him. It had been weeks now since the incident, and those weeks, painful as they were, he couldn't stop thinking about it. About all of it. 

He knew in some way, as much as he didn't want to, he had to say something to Newton. Anything. 

Jake Pentecost had told him to go. "Not that it matters, Gottlieb. But no one's visited him for weeks. You're probably the only one who wants to." He had told him that, with a wave of his hand, and Hermann had to act like he didn't look as miserable as he felt. 

He, for the first time in his life, didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he wanted to berate Newton, for being so foolish, or to ask him why. To tell him that despite everything, his feelings never changed, that it was all going to be fine, that it was alright that Newton started seeing him less and less for those 10 years, agonizing as it was; wearing newer and newer suits, acting like the world was on his fingertips, pushing Hermann aside like it was nothing, because it was _not his fault_.

It wasn't, it wasn't, a part of him is there, _it is_. 

Hermann neared the entryway of the room, peering in, eyes wary. His fingers, those damn fingers, were only trembling faster, so fast that he felt the grip on his cane start to loosen. His hands made way to his neck, feeling at his throat. There was no bruise there, but the soreness hadn't gone. 

That was the last time Hermann had seen him, face to face. Until now, at least. 

He emerged from the corridor, into the room, Newton staring at him. 

"Hi, Hermann."

Newton's voice sounded normal, and yet in the pit of stomach, at the edge of his core, Hermann knew that it was wrong. All of it. Watching this man that he. . . cared about, sitting there, locked up like some prisoner on death row. It was so strange to see him this way. 

"Newton." Hermann cleared his throat. Millions of thoughts, millions of questions, spreading around in his brain, like wildfire, and that was the only word that came to mind at the first sight of him. He looked. . . almost the same. Beautiful even. But his eyes, they were wide like they were lost. And his face. It was as if someone had put a mask over it, and it looked like him, but his gaze was left manic, hidden from behind those freckles, that award winning smile. 

"How. . . are you?" It was a stupid question, they both knew it, but Hermann felt like it was the only thing he could say. 

"Great, considering. . . you know." Newton shrugged comically in his metal chair, his reinforcements stopping him from moving any further. "How's the neck?" His mouth was playing into a grin, large and void of any emotion besides insolence, and snide. 

Hermann's hand went back up to his neck again, smoothing over the tender skin. He didn't know if what he was feeling was confusion, or anger, or fear, or anything else. 

"It's fine." He inched closer, barely, but enough so that they were a foot apart. Hermann watched the expression on Newton's face with disdain; he wanted to touch him, truly, wrap his arms around him, but he knew that it was a futile gesture. The beating in his heart slowed, Hermann's best attempt at collecting himself, collecting his thoughts. He took a breath, staggering closer. 

Silence invaded the room, though only for a moment. 

"Why did you do this, Newton?" He found that his voice was calm, dispersing into the air, though he felt anything but. Newton looked his way, teeth baring into a snide grimace.

"Because he- _I_ wanted to." 

". . . You and I both know that's not the case." 

"Really? Who are we talking to here, me? Or him?" Newton's voice gave way, growing garbled and far from human. He began to shake his head, quickly, before his body stilled again. Hermann watched this with dour eyes. How had he not seen this, for 10 years? Was everything Newton had said been him, _truly_ him, or had that part of his brain lost its will to fight as soon as that Kaiju meddled itself in his head, and it was all just a lie. 

"I'm talking to _you_ , Newton." Hermann found himself saying. "The entire time. . . in the elevator, at the lab. . . was that you? Or was it-" He paused, hand on his cane gripping tighter, until he could feel his knuckles begin to whiten. ". . . was it them?" 

A beat passed. Newton spoke, with a glint in his eye. 

"Hermann, anything I say won't be able to fool you now. You can see right through me." Newton moved his head to the side. His voice was caught, taken back in, replaced with someone so unrecognizable. He was looking away. "I know how you feel about me." 

"Don't you dare-"

"I can see right through you too. I can hear your heart, even in this room." Newton slumped down into his chair, as much as he could. His eyes were completely shut. Hermann couldn't take away from his thoughts that he looked beautiful, at that moment. At peace. 

"You care so much for me. It hurts you to see me like this." Hermann could recognize the remnants of his voice, _his_ voice. It had come and gone, but it was there. Hermann coughed, not caring that the lump that had accumulated in his throat caused the pain on his neck to surface. 

"You're here because you want to say something to me, right?" Newton's voice was serene, smooth like water. He sounded so unfamiliar, so unlike himself.

Hermann went forward, as close as he could. His heart had ceased it's ragged beating, replaced with an uneasiness that only made him grip his cane tighter for balance. 

"If-" He stopped, gathering his words. "If Liwen Shao hadn't shown up when she did. . ." He looked over at Newton's face, eyes still closed. Chest still heaving. 

". . . Would you have killed me then?" 

It was something Hermann never thought he'd say, to Newton especially, in this place. It was painful to even consider those words to him, but he knew that in the back of his mind, that question was always there. It wrung troubling knots in his chest, and it left his mouth feeling empty and lost of any breath. Hermann's gaze shifted his way. "Look at me, Newton." 

Stepping forward, Hermann placed one single hand at the edge of Newton's cheek, thumb brushing at the skin there. He decided to ignore the thought grazing in his head; that this was a bad idea and nothing he could do, or say, would amount to anything different. Newton. . . wasn't there. And he was there, at the same time, lost, a part of him not thinking at his own volition. Only a fragment. 

Newton opened his eyes, finally, though his gaze remained at the far corner of the room. "No. He wouldn't have."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hermann traced the edge of the photo, looking at the two of them, frozen in time. He felt the beginnings of a lump in his throat. He's had it here, sitting on his desk, since the war had ended. 

A part of him wanted to tear it up, resort it to nothing but shreds of paper. The other part was what kept him from doing so. The part that still. . . hoped, relentlessly. 

Newton was there, he was there and he was beautiful but his eyes were like a stranger's. His mind was like different parts of a person, put together half-heartedly and abandoned.

Give it time, and Hermann could fix him, couldn't he? Hermann could bring him back, remove the Kaiju-muck out of Newton's brain and then maybe he wouldn't have those nightmares anymore. 

Hermann eyed the picture some more. The past could not slow down the feeling he had in his gut. As if he had lost something, and forever he was to wonder if he'd ever receive it again. 

He looked at the clock. 2:58 AM. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello um i want to die after seeing pacific rim 2 so i wrote this immediately to make myself feel better, but instead i kind of made myself more sad, don't worry a fix-it fit is coming soon probably
> 
> also here's a link about the photo if you didn't understand: http://misssarahsong.tumblr.com/post/172139949176/so-i-was-watching-pacific-rimuprising-and


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